


The Rotting Heart

by CReed



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Alistair is Dark, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Dubious Consent, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CReed/pseuds/CReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're relationship was not what the bards sang of. It was not what would go down in historical accounts. Most days, Alistair could hardly stand the sight of his one-time companion and fellow Warden. For years a dark, poisonous hatred has consumed him for the man, and the mage must never know, never figure out why. If ever he did, Alistair fears what will happen to his fraying control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rotting Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Okay... I really don't know how to describe this. All I can say is that I noticed the now-and-again posts of “There needs to be moar Alistair/M!Warden stories!!” and this idea popped into my head a few days ago and won't leave me alone. Know that this is slightly dark (why is my head canon of Alistair always dark?) and dub-con for a bit. I don't write rape-as-a-good-thing stories but this is pushing it. You'll see... Also, I am using my own Amell who later is specced as an arcane warrior/blood mage/battlemage so he's definitely not a “squishy” mage, and decked out in the Hirol's Defense armor. Which, if you aren't familiar with, looks similar to the armor King Alistair wears in Awakenings. Just, you know, for more visual aid.

There were few things he hated more than this. Which was saying a lot, he hated many things these days. Balls, match meetings, holding court with frilly nobles. Whenever Eamon cornered him with that look in his eyes that usually preceded the lecture of, “What have you done lately for Ferelden?” The moment he realized he was opening yet another perfumed letter from Anora in her “exile” by the coast. The hopeful maiden, or recently thus, who sauntered out of his bedchamber, thinking they had a proposal in their future.

None of these things compared to welcoming the Hero of Ferelden to the palace.

Over the course of the three years he was king, this had only happened four, maybe five, times. The last the Warden-Commander visited Denerim was little over a year ago. No one knew where he had been, disappearing for months after yet another poor bastard begged for his help. Apparently, he followed a lone dwarf and his pet bronto into an ancient thaig many forgot existed. Even Alistair was curious as to what he could have accomplished with such a group. Just returned and Eamon insisted he invite him to the palace. The Vigil would survive a bit longer without him. Alistair agreed, though honestly he would rather have poked his own eye out before seeing this man again.

He could never let anyone know the depths of his hatred. The invitation was sent.

Finally the sound of horses and metal armor clanking reached the palace gates as the troops sent to receive his old friend returned. Over the years, Eamon and the others had cleaned him up nicely. Many who remembered often stared after Alistair, overtaken with emotion at the uncanny resemblance between he and his father. Resplendent, in glittering armor with Maric's sword and Duncan's shield forever at his sides, Alistair Theirin seemed to have sprung from the pages of Fereldan myth.

He felt like a slug compared to the man approaching.

Talonas Amell slipped easily from the saddle of the tall, sturdy stallion he rode. Once, the at-the-time slip of a mage wouldn't have known which end of a horse to mount. Now, broader and much heartier, this man carried himself similar to any warrior Alistair had fought with. During the Fifth Blight Talonas shed his thin robes for better protection, training his body to move agilely in even the heaviest materials. His silver and gold armor was blinding in the light, though banged up and scratched from his latest adventure.

Before the mage could speak, Alistair stepped forward as he beckoned the waiting servant. “I have some urgent business I must attend to until the evening. See that our guest is made comfortable and receives everything he asks for.” To Talonas he gave a small nod of his head. “I am sorry, but I must leave you now. We will talk later.”

Surprise filled those damnable blue eyes and Talonas opened his mouth to speak but Alistair turned and left before any more could be said.

* * * * *

He lied. There was no pressing matter. Well, unless one considered fucking a noblewoman important. He smiled as he thought back on it. The mutual contract between he and the dark-haired beauty that was a cousin to one of his most loyal lords was the best he had made thus far as king. The Couslands needed to survive, he needed to not have Anora wheedle her way back onto the throne, or, Maker help him, his bed. The Couslands were all so strong-willed and delightfully progressive. She didn't need nor want his promises for marriage, or even a public admission of a relationship. If they created a child, then they would talk. At least in this he had lucked out.

It had been hours since she discreetly left his chambers. Now he was just hiding. He could admit that. The longer he could prepare himself, steel his nerves, the better for the both of them. Sometimes he felt his control slipping when in the mage's presence and that could not happen. Who knew what would become of them in that case? Different scenarios swirled through his head and he had to banish them before they took hold. Standing, he inhaled a steadying breath and made his way to his guest's rooms.

There were no guards outside the door. Good. He hated so many people standing about, watching him. Silently he stepped through the entrance, pausing only to turn the lock. It was warm. A fine contrast to the somewhat drafty halls in this time of year. Ferelden's winters were cruel, not sparing Denerim just because the nobles found the snow and winds disagreeable.

A crackling fire welcomed him as he stepped into the parlor. For the moment he went unnoticed. He must have been fresh from a bath. Shining, strawberry-blond hair he usually wore tied back was damp and framing Talonas' face. The silk clothes were an odd but pleasing change from the armor, which set forgotten on a stand. He made his presence known for the mage finally looked up from the book he was reading, happiness brightening his handsome features. Alistair wanted to punch him in the face.

“Good! I hoped you would visit. You said you'd be busy, but I wanted to at least share an evening meal.”

Alistair took in the spread on the table. Meats and winter vegetables, all steaming in thick juices and sauces. A nice variety of spirits. What caught his eye, however, was the large platter of cheeses. After all these years, Talonas always tried to please. He must want something. That was his method, butter you up and then ask when you couldn't possibly say no to him. He smirked and sat down across from his one-time companion. The expanse of the table between them might as well have been an ocean.

“So be it. I can't very well deny my most _esteemed_ guest, can I?”

The look of hurt was quick and masked over. Talonas also learned to put on his courtly face as the years went by. Never let them see how deep words cut. That was an important bit of advice they both learned, separately.

Conversation was stilted, hollow. Alistair only gave one-word responses, refusing to be drawn in by the mage's silver tongue. He learned his lesson. Soon the only sounds in the chamber were the cracking of burning logs and the clatter of silverware. After their bellies were full, Alistair went to a chair without much urging and found a snifter of fine brandy placed in his hand. Of course, Antivan brandy. For most of the evening he had ignored the other man, drifting away from that lilting voice. However, he couldn't stay miles away forever. Talonas' words finally filtered through and, when he realized what was being said, rage began to boil in his veins. To make matters worse, there was a far away look in his eyes and a soft melancholy to his tone.

“I've yet to receive another letter. It's been months. If I didn't hear of his accomplishments within the Crows from my sources, I'd think he met his death long ago. Still, it's strange. He used to be so...enthusiastic about corresponding and now... I just don't know—”

Alistair stood with a sigh, shaking his head and, perhaps even rolling his eyes, before any more tripe could fall from those lips. “If you're going to just pine all evening I'll leave you to it. You may not believe it, but I do have better things to do.”

“What?” His shock nearly made him laugh. Talonas stood, following him as he stomped over to the stocked bar. He needed another drink, and not bloody Antivan brandy! “What do you mean? I wasn't—I didn't say—I am _not_ pining, Alistair. It is just—”

“Yes, yes. You miss your assassin lover. You long for the day you are back in his arms. One day he'll come back and everything will be candy and cake.” Alistair snorted before throwing back an entire glass of fine whiskey. He poured another and gulped down half. Warmth rushed through him. It was a pleasant feeling but the liquor was going to his head. Before he could stop, glass resting against damp lips, he said, “It's disgusting, the way you carry on.” He swallowed the rest of his drink to make room for another.

Hurt filled Talonas' features. There was anger, to be sure, but not enough. Not nearly enough. Alistair tensed as he came closer. He seemed to know touching him was not the best idea and blessedly refrained from reaching out to him.

“What have I done?” He stepped closer and Alistair's eyes fought not to close as the warm scent of his soap invaded his senses. “Alistair, please. Tell me what I've done to make you so angry with me.”

He snorted, shaking his head as he emptied his glass. Turning his back he filled it once again. The bottle was sadly almost empty. There was no chance in hiding his sarcasm after so many drinks. “If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you.” His glass slipped from his fingers and crashed amongst the other bottles when Talonas grabbed his arm to turn him about.

“What are you playing at?”

Alistair wrenched free of his hold. It took more control than usual to keep his Reaver training at bay. “Don't touch me.” He stepped closer, smirking as Talonas didn't back down. Finally the mage was getting angry. “And do I look to be in a playful mood?”

“That's it, Alistair. This has gone on long enough and I will not sit by and take it anymore silently. I want to know why.”

“Oh, so you've noticed then? I assumed the _Hero_ had much bigger concerns.”

Blue eyes widened and he took a step back. “Is that it? If you had such a problem—I—You asshole!” He shoved at him and Alistair was quite proud he didn't fall over. However, his victory was smothered by the rage that began to pulse with his heart. “You gave me that title! I never wanted any of that! I never wanted that stupid title—either of them!”

“Well, neither did I!”

“Is that what this is about? Are you still pissy about becoming king?”

Alistair was so caught off guard he began to laugh. This must be what madness felt like! The mage still didn't get it. Shaking his head he came within reach once more and said, “This has been going on since way before that damned Landsmeet, Talonas. Why does it surprise me that you wouldn't know that? It really shouldn't. You've always been a bit blind and self-absorbed.”

“I—”

“Don't you dare give me that look. You are not the victim in this. You always, _always_ , do that! If your wicked tongue doesn't get you your way, you make people want to fall all over themselves to please you—right some bloody wrong against you with just one bloody look! It won't work on me. Not anymore.”

“If that's not it, what then? Tell me. Make me understand!”

“I was just another bargaining chip, wasn't I? You put me on the throne and my fate was sealed. It didn't matter that I wasn't prepared—that I can't do this without you. As long as I remain your puppet it doesn't matter what I want!”

“That's not true, any of it! You are a good man, Alistair. You are a good king. You will be a great king, and I didn't have anything to do with that. You were the right choice. Believe what you want of me, but you were the right choice.”

“It makes me sick. To think on how much I cared. I spent the war so long haunted by you and then...” His fists clenched and it took everything he had to not land them on the nearest object.

“What are you saying?” By the sound of the hushed shock in his tone it seemed Talonas was finally beginning to see.

“Even now you wont leave me be! Every bloody time I have to sit through a sob story about your wayward lover. I _still_ don't understand that. I've tried. All these years and I still cannot wrap my mind around that.”

“What?”

“Him. You chose him when you could have had—” He stopped himself, lips pressing closed. When would he learn not to drink so much?

“What?”

There was something in his voice, in his eyes, that made Alistair panic. It was too much to handle to think there was something akin to hope in his tone. This shouldn't be happening. This couldn't happen. Not now. Perhaps long ago, when they were both just Wardens. He needed to leave.

“Nothing, it doesn't matter.” He moved around him, heading for the door, when Talonas stepped in his way.

“No. You are not leaving after all this. Not until I have my answer.”

“Let it alone.”

“No. This will end now.”

“Don't push me, Tal.”

Talonas grabbed his arm, dragging him back into his chambers, and Alistair's mind went red. It had been a long time since he pulled the will up to perform such an act, perhaps that is why the Smite was so powerful. His one-time friend and companion, a man he once thought would be by his side forever, flew across the room to lay crumpled on the floor. He was still stunned when Alistair yanked him up by his collar. When his body sagged against his he didn't fight the urge to bury his face into his neck. Warm and soft, the scent of elfroot beneath the perfumes of the palace soap filled his head and made him swoon. It occurred to him he was trembling only after he threw Talonas onto the bed and climbed on top of him.

Shaking hands made quick work of ties and buttons. How was the mage's skin so golden-brown beneath the silks or the armor he wore almost constantly? For a moment he leaned back on his heels to just admire. Talonas could have been a warrior with how he had filled out since his Circle days. His body was a work of art. Lean and fit, muscles twitched beneath his curious touch. How many would kill to see and feel what he was now exploring? It wasn't a secret how many admirers the Hero of Ferelden had. A dark, twisted rage came over Alistair as he thought of all the fools, himself included, who fell into the sweet trap of desiring Talonas Amell. There was only one man in the mage's heart. And no matter the evil foes he killed or cities he saved, he would never win this beautiful man for his own.

A snarl escaped him as he leaned over to rifle through the bedside drawer. These weren't his rooms. If they were, there would be all sorts of helpful salves and oils. Rumor had it that Talonas did not take lovers, least of all when he was in Denerim. To think he saved himself for the reunion with his assassin made him angrier and a horrible smile tainted the good king's features as his fingers closed around a jar of greasy, mild healing ointment.

A trickle of blood matted Talonas' hair from the cut he received in the fall. He must have banged his head hard because he still had not recovered from the Smite. It didn't matter though, his body was responding just fine. Alistair watched every expression that flitted across his slack face, every hitch of breath. The strongest responses he would repeat his actions. There was still a lot of resistance as he prepared him. His gasps of pleasure turned into those of pain and his eyelashes fluttered as he woke further.

The thought of Talonas being so unused to having another inside him made Alistair rough, impatient to take things further. It would be as if using a virgin. His own clothes were torn away and he settled between the mage's limp thighs. He looked up and paused as he noticed two lovely, glazed blue eyes staring at him. Talonas' chest heaved, face flushed from arousal and pain, but he wasn't stopping him.

“Why are you doing this?”

Alistair surged forward to loom over him, both men crying out as he pushed inside. He gripped Talonas' fine hair, tugging so he looked at him once more. “Because it doesn't matter to you that I've spent so long in your shadow, loving you with every ounce of my being. What care have you of my heart? You never have...” He grabbed the backs of his thighs and pulled out as far as he could without slipping free. “It doesn't matter what I do, so I will give you a reason to hate me, Tal. Perhaps now you will let me go.”

He slammed inside him again and again. The oily substance used to prepare him gave a wonderful sliding friction to the movement. Alistair expected blood and tears, pleas for mercy. It wouldn't be the first time. However, the hips snug against his began to rotate and sway. Strong legs wrapped around his waist to pull him in further. Unbelieving, he watched as a look of bliss washed over Talonas' face. Long-lashed eyelids fluttered closed as he pressed his head back into the pillows. The exposed stretch of neck proved too tempting and Alistair leaned down to kiss and bite the tanned flesh.

He broke the skin and they voiced their enjoyment in snarls and curses as the mage's blood began to fuel a potent vigor spell. Alistair pulled away enough to watch him work his magic, licking what little blood was left on his lips.

The first time he had seen Talonas do it he felt as if the world dropped out from beneath him. How could he? How could such a charming, sweet, kind—innocent—young man like the mage he fought with at Ostagar be a worker of blood magic? Blood mages were vile, evil creatures. Were they not? By then it had been too late, he was completely enamored with him. Every urge within him to destroy, every rule he had been taught, evaporated in the face of what he felt for the younger man. How the malificar bitch taunted him after that!

His feelings changed even in this after a time. To Wardens, the war was won by any means necessary. He saw first-hand what Talonas could do and, even with his blood swirling about him and enemies screaming in agony, the mage was a pleasure to watch. Soon Alistair found himself looking forward to it, transfixed by his power. He smiled now, slowing his movements and putting more strength into each push forward. Never had he felt Talonas' blood magic performed on himself. It was incredible. This was nothing like his healing magic. It was deeper, warmer, and it made his blood sing in an answering thrum. He could feel his exhaustion fade away, the heaviness he seemed to always carry with him gone. Or perhaps it was that he finally had Talonas where he belonged that eased his burden.

Hands cupped his face and he smiled as he was pulled down, lips crashing against his own to draw more blood.

* * * * *

“You love me?”

The wonder in that soft voice made him not scoff, bite out a remark about his foolish sentiments. Alistair looked down at the man resting against his chest, hand moving of its own volition through shining hair. Talonas settled closer, pressed seamlessly to his side, and laid his hand over his heart. He was covered in bruises and bites but had a relaxation about him that spoke of bone-deep satisfaction.

“I don't know.” The truth was the only thing he could offer. Talonas rose to look at him, curiosity in his gaze. His hand began to move in small circles and Alistair felt comforted by the soothing touch. With a deep breath he offered, “Once I know for certain I did. I loved you, and I thought I would love no other for the rest of my pathetic existence.”

“And then?”

His arm went around that tapered waist and pulled him once more against him. “You chose the elf. You chose the bloody assassin who was sent for us. After that you only had eyes for him. Any chance I had I lost. I can't stand it.” His grip had to be painful but Talonas only pressed closer, dragging one leg up to his hip. He ran his free hand through his hair to grab and jerk him so their eyes met. “I remember loving you, Tal. So bloody much. Now it just feels like all I have for you is a black hatred that has rotted my heart.”

A laugh surprised him into easing his hold. Talonas used that to his advantage and straddled him, shaking his head as sad laughter bubbled out of him. Before he recovered he was shocked further as the man above him back-handed him.

“You really are an asshole, Your Majesty.” They struggled and Talonas pinned his arms to the sides of his head, before he could Smite him again. “If you would have said something. I have always been blind? Well, you have always been a moron!” He leaned down pressing his body against his in all the right ways that Alistair moaned, hips bucking against the mage's. “I never knew I had two such wonderful men to choose from.”

He didn't fight as lips ran along his neck, trailing down his sternum. His cheek throbbed from the slap but he could not bring himself to retaliate as a talented mouth made quick work of exploring him until finally swallowing his awakening cock. Not even the priciest whore could pleasure him the way this mage could. It was a technique borne from experience. The sounds were absolutely indecent and he amused himself in thinking of what Eamon would say to all the slurping and hums of delight coming from the Hero of Ferelden. Anora's head would explode if she found him, the man she hoped to trap in a marriage contract, fucking his brother-in-arms' mouth so roughly and mindless with sensation.

Those thoughts made him move faster, Talonas answering his fervor with one to match. When he reached completion he could only lie back, enjoying the tender way he was licked clean. He watched as Talonas settled himself against the headboard, cheeky smile in place. He took a moment to get comfortable and Alistair found himself once more in awe of him. How he could pull off looking so serene, smelling of sex with his cock laying half-hard against his thigh, he would never know. The unshakable Hero of Ferelden. However, Alistair had fought with this man, lived in close quarters with him for a year. He knew what to look for and could see the nervous glint in his eyes. Finally Talonas turned to face him.

“Make no mistake, Alistair, I still love Zevran. I love him beyond all reason and care for my own well-being. I would rather cut my heart out and give it to him than cause that beautiful soul any more pain.” 

There was no anger left inside him. Only a numbing pain filled him, causing Alistair to feel short of breath. After all that he still didn't mean a damn thing to him. He couldn't stand to be near him any further and rose to retrieve his clothes. He made it as far as sitting on the edge of the bed. Strong arms wrapped around him as a warm body settled against his back. Lips ran along his shoulder before a chin rested there.

“I loved you first.” He tried to turn in the hold but it only tightened. Talonas hissed against his ear, signaling him to be silent and listen. “I never thought I would have to admit this, but I cannot have you go on further with such poison eating away at the very things that make you perfect.” A hand splayed against his heart and Alistair felt emotions choke him at such a reverent touch. “Oh, Alistair. If you had any idea what went through my head when I first saw you... I was miserable. Never had I traveled so far on-foot before. I was tired, hungry, filthy—and so angry. You know my story, I shared everything with you, but I never quite explained the betrayal I felt.

“It might not be important anymore, but I was to inherit Irving's title. That wasn't official but everyone knew it. I was his best student, proficient in all of my classes and recently broke the record for time taking the Harrowing. I will never forgive myself for what happened to Jowen. He was my friend, my best friend, and I served him up to Circle politics. He could have been saved. He was only afraid and desperate—as anyone would be. I went to Irving, hoping he would talk some sense back into him but I was only told to play along, to entrap, like some bloody she-wolf. The look on his face...” Talonas nuzzled Alistair's neck, taking a calming breath. “That is why I let him go. I know you didn't approve or understand, but Jowen needed a chance to prove himself. Last I heard he was successful.

“Anyway, I arrived with Duncan after my humiliating banishment. I felt broken and confused. And then I saw you. If it wasn't love then it was definitely lust at first sight. My handsome knight in splintmail armor. And then you opened your mouth and out came one sarcastic comment after another. It was like a balm. Being near you made that whole bloody nightmare bearable—the Blight bearable. But I am a mage. How could a Templar, even a recruit, ever see me as anything more? In the Kokari Wilds, when we met Flemeth and Morrigan, I thought perhaps you just could never trust a mage. Then I had hope. On the way to Lothering. Morrigan bragged on and on how no man ever resisted her charms and beauty, and yet you despised her. I started thinking perhaps it wasn't just the magic, maybe you are not attracted to women. And then Leliana joined us and I knew I never had a chance.” 

Alistair broke from his hold and turned to cup his face. This time his kiss drew no blood. Talonas went willingly into his arms, pulling him close as the kiss deepened. Alistair pulled away and kissed his forehead. “Leliana is a good woman, but we were both just warm bodies to one another. Besides, I think she would have preferred a beautiful woman any day over me. It's funny,” he traced a finger along the mage's swollen bottom lip, “Lothering is where it started for me. Morrigan teased me for my silence on the way there and while we had business in town, remember? She had no idea that while I did mourn Duncan and my fellow Wardens, I was also trying to figure out why I had a sudden urge to kiss you. I even picked a rose, thinking of you—but I threw it out. Everything happened so fast after that, one mess after another. And then there was Zevran. I lost any chance after he showed up.”

Talonas laughed, nodding as he pulled Alistair back onto the bed amongst the plump pillows. “And then there was Zevran. You never said anything about my blood magic once I started, but I knew you hated it. It was just another thing that kept us apart. I am a mage, became something you were told for so long to hate and fear—to kill on sight. I am a man. You by all evidence liked breasts and...other fleshy bits that I don't care to think on. The thought of being with you was a fantasy that would remain such. I accepted that and the possibility that I would pine away for you for the rest of my life. And then Zevran. He was gorgeous and exotic and so full of life. Everything I could not, and would not, ever be thanks to the Joining. I was so lonely by then. Even among our companions, with you, I felt so alone. He changed that. It did for him as well. So even if he takes lovers while away I know that I am the one he will return to.”

Alistair sat up once more, frustrated and hurt. It wasn't easy to hold onto his anger while in the arms of the mage so he pulled free. “What then? You tell me you loved me, you let me have you, for what? A pity fuck? One taste to sate your curiosity?” Talonas better not be playing games with him. He wouldn't live to enjoy his schemes.

Talonas crawled once more to him, looping his arms around his shoulder. “You misunderstood my point, forgive me. I told you all that so you would know it wasn't one-sided. And I didn't love you. Alistair, I love you still. I have and I will with my last breath. However, I love Zevran as well. I told you my most guarded secrets as a warning, in hopes you would understand.”

Alistair grabbed his biceps and hauled him onto his lap. “Tell me plainly, Tal. What do you want? You know my desires. It has always been you.”

“Do not make me to choose. That is all I ask.”

“You are telling me I must share.” He felt the urge to punch something once more.

Talonas looked to him, not quite angry but nearing his own limit. “Is that not what I will have to do as well?”

“That is different.”

“I agree. You want me, but you _need_ a woman and an heir. One day you may even _need_ to marry for alliance purposes. I do not mind. As long as I can be with you. Just do not expect me to turn my back on Zevran.”

“My duties to the throne are separate from my duties to you. No one will ever change that.”

“That is a lovely thought, something sweet that the old Alistair would think, but you know that's not true. Do you intend on making our affair known to your public? That you take to bed a mage and a man?”

“That mage, that man, saved these pathetic barbarians from annihilation—countless times. If they have something to say they may, but it will hold no power over me.”

“And if Eamon tells you to end this?”

“You think my devotion to you so frail?”

Talonas kissed him. It was sweet and tender, his chest aching with the feel. All he wanted was to show him everything he had learned about love-making in the last years. When was he to leave, in four days? Perhaps they could spend the entirety in bed. Hands pressed against his chest, pushing him gently away.

“Answer me something.”

“Anything.”

“If we had acted upon our desires all those years ago, if we had been together, what would have happened at the Landsmeet?”

Alistair smiled, though there was no humor in the expression, and he smoothed soft hair behind the mage's pierced ear. “I would have broke your heart. I would have ended whatever we had, thinking only of what Eamon expected of me.”

“Perhaps it is better this way. We suffered but at least there is nothing holding us back now.”

“And that will continue, because I promise you: now that I've had you, now that I know how you feel, I will not let anyone come between us. I will do what I must for the future of the throne but I will not lose you.” Alistair lifted his hand to kiss along his wrist. “If that means I must share you, so be it. _If_ Zevran returns we will discuss the arrangement further. Until then...”

Alistair rolled on top of the mage, kissing and grinding against him until all protests—all thoughts of anyone else—faded away. It wasn't perfect. Alistair wasn't completely sure if he wanted to make love to him or strangle him. As they moved, as Talonas voiced his enjoyment, he felt a little more of his dark anger fade away. All of his doubts, rage, fear and love he poured into his touch. Talonas took everything with enthusiasm. He wouldn't be surprised if his sour heart fed some sort of power within him.

“That's it.” Talonas gasped against his mouth, hips moving faster. All of a sudden Alistair didn't feel like he was in control even though he was the one pounding inside the Warden-Commander. He tried to pull away only to be grabbed and held in place. “No. Give me everything, Alistair. All of your hate, all of your anger. I'll take it away. I'll keep it. I'll treasure your blackest rage and lock it up. It will never touch your beautiful heart again.”

“Tal,” Alistair choked out, falling against him as he thrust harder.

A pressure sliced through his heart and he let out a strangled cry. Was this blood magic? Was this death? He could not think of a better way to die. And if he was thrall, he would belong to no one else. Lips pressed against his forehead and arms wrapped around him.

“What did you do to me?” His voice was slurred against Talonas' neck, body weak and unable to move. There was a slick warmth between them. He slipped free and limp from the mage's delightful heat and tightness. Talonas only held him closer.

“I loved you the only way you could have been with that darkness inside you.”

Alistair only nuzzled his jaw, kissing along the light stubble. His fellow Warden kissed his head, carding a healer's hand through his hair. Whispers of love and wishing him peaceful sleep echoed through his now clear mind. Did he really have such a pounding din in his thoughts for so long? How did he allow such a thing? Would Tal ever forgive him? All these questions drifted away as weariness pulled him into sleep. There were no nightmares this time. The black, rotting wretchedness that had dogged him for so long was absent. And now he had a guardian that walked beside him in the Fade.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you have it. I really don't know what this was. :) Just an idea that wouldn't let me be. I have a thing for dark Alistair, I guess. I also might revisit these two. In case anyone's interested. For those that read this, hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think. Or not, I guess... :)


End file.
